


suck away your life and turn it blue

by dullrockets



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Blue - Freeform, Body Horror, Dead Wilbur Soot, Gen, Songfic, everyone besides wilbur is just mentioned, just a tad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28431495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dullrockets/pseuds/dullrockets
Summary: ghostbur liked blue, addicted, it sucked the pain away.(it sucked his life away)a dreamsmp songfic
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), actually i dont think there are any relationships in this, everyones just sad
Comments: 18
Kudos: 36





	suck away your life and turn it blue

**Author's Note:**

> song: [meteor shower - cavetown](https://youtu.be/vxG1HlT8n-I)
> 
> warnings: body horror, descriptions of death  
> if either of those trigger you, please skip (for the descriptions of death) from "ghostbur liked the rain." to "but the hues in our hair compliment one another," and for body horror, skip from "ghostbur smiled," to the end of the fic. there will be a short summary in the endnotes.
> 
> disclaimer: if any of the cc mention they are uncomfortable with these types of fics, i will take this down.

_i’ve got miles of regrets and confusing friends_

it’s late for ghostbur. it’s late, and ghostbur is so, so tired but he can’t sleep; he’s a ghost. _he asked to die, why does he regret it?_ he asks for help, but is brushed off because, well, he doesn’t act the same. he’s an entirely different person, the only things really staying the same are his ‘body’ (though it’s not _really_ a body, just a shell of what it once was), and the memories, even those are give and take.

so, he supposed his friends had every right to treat him like someone else. it didn’t help the pain he felt, though, every night, clutching the soft blanket in his quaint little library home within the sewers. it didn’t help the memories that flashed through his head and left him gasping for the air he doesn’t really need. it doesn’t fucking help the broken heart in his transparent chest that yearns for comfort, for touch that he can’t get.

_but perhaps it’s just my stupid head in the end_

he knew it was technically his fault. he was the one who went insane, who left his country ( _my_ _symphony, forever unfinished-_ ) to rot and burn, who asked to die. but was he cruel for wanting someone to be there? to understand? it was, probably. what did he know anyway? most people seemed to think he knew scarcely little, but that was far from the truth.

he knew how emotions worked, even if he could only feel joy. he knew how to make good choices, even if he was oblivious to their intents. he knew how to sew, and how to cook, and how to make dyes, and how to mine. but most importantly, he knew being sad sucked. and he spent days trying to find the right formula, the right fit; and he did! but no one, no one cared enough to try (except tommy, his brother, who was too sad to fill himself up with happiness.)

_thinking should i wait here or make my way home_

_you said go (you said go)_

tommy gave him a strained smile, one that screamed pain, but ghostbur, so, so naïve (he really wasn’t, but everyone said he was), laughed. _why won’t you go through the portal?_ he had asked, slightly confused, _i can’t, wilbur. go without me._ ghostbur’s chuckles had died down, _oh, okay then. i’ll take a photo for you!_ and he was gone. just like that, even if it was just for 10 minutes to let sapnap pose on the tree.

_making up problems that don’t exist_

_why do i let myself dream like this?_

he didn’t know why he found himself forgetting things; one moment tommy was crying, about l’manberg, and the next (even after ghostbur comforted him _over and over_ , on repeat), with the blink of an eye, he was asking what was wrong, again. he didn’t blame tommy for getting tired of it; after the- 5th, or 6th time?- he just sighed and smiled, walking towards the tent. ghostbur found it rather confusing, but he just grabbed some blue and let it suck up his sadness and worries (and, unbeknownst to him, his memories).

_we’re floating away, my body’s in space_

_we are going home_

metaphors weren’t usually hard for him to understand; he knew most of them, but tommy’s? those were confusing. like, for example, clara. the astronaut. tommy always mentioned her, every other day, talking about her (and sometimes to her, though ghostbur could never see) while the tunes of chirp played throughout logstedshire.

_-_

_missing pieces of my skull_

_i’ll sew on patches of my own soul_

_there’s nothing you or i can do so let the stars fall_

_‘cause from up here the sky is my thoughts_

_and we’re all so small_

ghostbur liked the rain. even if he melted, dissolved into a puddle, it was still a lovely thing in the world. when it was raining in logstedshire, even if tommy hated every minute of it, he was vice versa. he loved it so fucking much. the rain was a huge part of the world, a part of the world he almost never got to see. he didn’t see a lot of the world, actually- he was a simple shell of a person equally as insignificant as any other in this barren land.

_meteor shower_

_quick, take cover_

more rain. it seemed to rain a lot, recently. tommy, after a horrid accident in which ghostbur got caught in the middle of a storm whilst wandering a plains biome, was quick to warn him about even a sprinkle. and if there was, the boy would quickly get him under a tree at the very least, preferably in a cave or a small dirt hut. it was very kind, but he didn’t actually know the intentions. was it to keep him ‘alive’? was it to keep him ‘alive’ to kill him later? he didn’t know, but he didn’t mind either way. it was nice.

_but the hues in our hair compliment one another_

_i’d sell my own bones for sapphire stones_

_‘cause blue’s your favourite colour_

the transparent gel-like substance in his faux hands quickly turned to a bright, cornflower blue. it was his own creation; and he knew tommy liked the color blue, as much as he liked red (or maybe he didn’t, and just kept _forgetting_ ). so, because tommy would like this, he worked hard day and night to just keep making more. it was worth it, it was worth it, it was worth it.

_missing pieces of my skull_

_i’ll sew on patches of my soul_

_there’s nothing you or i can do so let the stars fall_

_‘cause up here the sky is my thoughts_

_and we’re all so small_

_we’re all so..._

it was getting tiring. the ghost, the one who was dead, was tired. he was tired, and so fucking cold. although his ‘body’ technically emitted at least a bit of heat, that didn’t mean he felt it. he felt so cold, and so tired, and not happy at all. good thing he had some blue on him, to suck all the bad feelings away ( _to suck his life away-_ ).

_-_

_my heart and the earth share the same rule_

_it starts with love and it ends with you_

_but don’t go outside, its dangerous tonight’_

_without me right here by your side_

technoblade was so kind to them both, even if it was filled with bumps on the road. he was always somehow there for tommy, and him. and so what if tommy was prioritized over him, he was a ghost. he didn’t have the priority living people did. and tommy really, _really_ needed help; he wasn’t trying to say that he didn’t. he just wished phil, or tommy, or techno, or _anyone_ would listen to what he had to say. 

and he had a lot of things to say! what, with not being able to close his eyes and sleep and skip the day and all that. that would be so easy, so much fun. ghostbur would love that. he would love that so much. but no, phil was busy with house arrest, and technoblade, and all that shit. and ghostbur was there half the time, having a great time with him! he didn’t need any help, he was basically fine. he was happy, and he had a great coping mechanism for when he wasn’t ( _it was horrible, but he loved it_ ). perfect.

_take it slow, you’ll know_

_which way to go_

_sew up your skull_

_take your time_

_and we’ll be just fine_

ghostbur smiled, as narrowed eyes concentrated on the needle threading through his skin. it reminded everyone of how fragile he was. that a simple kick could result in skin flaking off and needed to be thread back on. it was fine, though, the patches flooding his body were just another thing, like how tommy basically had the same thing, except the patches were stitches, and the threads were scars.

_“it’ll be fine, technoblade.”_

he had said, laughing even, because it was a normal occurrence ( _this has never happened before, why don’t i remember-_ ) on a normal day. and he was fine. he hated this, he hated this so much. the thin needle and thread weaving through flesh that wasn’t really there, deciding his fate. the thread-like line between the living and the dead crossed easily, danced over with just the thought of an insane man being stabbed by his father.

_missing pieces of my skull_

_i’ll sew on patches of my own soul_

the family watched in horror as ghostbur hummed happily, an action that seemed so normal, but so out of place. his whole body was bleeding blood ( _why was it turning blue?_ ) that didn’t exist, and so many needles were weaving, and dancing, and doing all the things that needles shouldn’t do to flesh and _oh my god why was ghostbur so happy?_ what had happened? what did they do to their friend, brother, son, to make him look like whatever this was? 

this wasn’t wilbur, this wasn’t ghostbur, this was someone else. a cruel mix between the two, who was clutching the blue as if their life depended on it, tears of blazing intensity running down their cheeks as they hummed happily. what a terrifying sight to see.

_“wi- wilby? wilby, i’m scared,”_

_“why are you scared, tommy?”_

_“i’m scared- i’m scared because of you, wil!”_

**Author's Note:**

> descriptions of death summary: uh ghostbur likes the rain even if he melts and even if tommy hates it. there's been more rain recently, and tommy (after an incident) was quick to tell him if any rain was coming, and if there was, he'd make sure ghostbur was away from it.
> 
> body horror summary: idk some weird ass metaphor but also real thread threading patches of smth probably blue into ghostbur as the family watches in horror 
> 
> hope you enjoyed that mess of a fic. if you couldn't tell i was using rich text as an editor for the first time so it may be a bit weird :)


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